southend poetry home page

back issues







Patricia Aves

Not Yet

I'm a thin, old stick.
I'd float away on the air
if they didn't keep the door shut.
My gums feel ripe,
knobbly like pea pods,
but my teeth don't fit.
They tell me I look well
and I chuckle.
They stare when I mention
Freddie and Martha
but I saw them yesterday
and I know what I'm talking about.
I'll change my will.
Jane deserves a fiver.
I need a spokesperson
because the words
scuttle ahead of me
and hide in damp, mouldy corners
where I don't want to go.
There are mice in the traps.
I hear them scrabbling.
I'd like to have the light on.
Don't pull the curtains yet.
We'll have a sing song
and a drop of Advocaat.
I'll go to bed soon.
Not yet.
Not yet.